A Far Better Thing
by Flash Foreward
Summary: Lassiter gets abducted and everyone knows that the only way to find him is with Shawn Spencer's help. Eventually ShawnLassiter, slash. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Quotes are from A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens

**Disclaimer:**I don't own Psych.

**Chapter One**

"_I have sometimes sat alone here of an evening, listening, until I have made the echoes out to be the echoes of all the footsteps that are coming by and by into our lives."_

The minute he walked into his house, Carlton Lassiter knew something was wrong. His doormat was covered in dirt, which had also been tracked into his kitchen. He followed the trail across the linoleum, crouching behind the counter and reaching for his weapon. The sound of a gun cocking behind his head made him freeze. He tried to catch a reflection in the window above his sink, but all he saw was the starry sky.

"Put it on the ground and kick it away from you," a gruff voice said. Lassiter obliged. He loosened his grip on the weapon and tapped it with his foot. As he watched his gun skitter across the floor, he began to lash out with his arm to try and surprise his attacker. He was halted by the butt of a gun colliding with his head. He crumpled to the floor, watching his kitchen fade to black.

.-.-.-.

"Detective O'Hara," Chief Vick shouted from her office. Juliet sighed. She set aside her work and headed for the chief's office. She stood awkwardly just inside the door, trying to decipher the chief's expression.

"What is it?" Juliet asked, as politely as possible.

"Where's Detective Lassiter?" Vick demanded.

"Um, I don't know. I just assumed it was his day off," Juliet replied. This answer earned her a glare from the chief.

"Call Mr. Spencer," Vick said.

"Um, Chief…?" Juliet asked.

"Does Detective Lassiter seem like the type to take a day off?"

.-.-.-.

Shawn groaned and rolled over as the shrill ringing of the telephone burst into his sleep. He pulled his blankets over his head, attempting to muffle the sound. It didn't help. Finally, he gave in. He felt around blindly for the phone. His fingers closed around the receiver and he pulled it under the blankets to press it to his ear, prepared to berate Gus for waking him up.

"Hello?" he asked his voice groggy and raspy.

"Hey, Shawn, it's Juliet," the voice on the other end said. "We have a case for you."

Shawn sat up quickly.

"Really?" he asked.

"How soon can you get here?" Juliet asked. She sounded worried; Shawn noted this and tucked it away in the back of his mind.

"I'll be there soon," he said. He hung up and hurriedly dressed.

.-.-.-.

"Wake up, sweet prince," a voice says. It's gruff, and he feels like he's heard it somewhere before, but there's a clog in his brain and he can't remember. He blinks rapidly, his eyes protesting to the sudden surge of light after so much time in the darkness. When his pupils finally adjust, he tries to lift his head to examine his surroundings, but his head begins to throb and he lets it return to his chest.

He hears laughing.

"He's sleepy, mate," a new voice says. This one is accented and high pitched, and it sets the throbbing to a new level.

"Yes, he's sleepy," the gruff voice responds, and he finds himself grateful that it has taken charge. Then it yells. "Lift yer head you lazy bum!"

For the first time he notices the gruff voice's accent. It's very subtle, not like the high voice's. The high voice is dripping in its accent, while the gruff one's is behind everything. Like the bass line in music, always there, but not always noticeable.

He lifts his head.

He has to close his eyes because of the throbbing, but he opens them again quickly to avoid angering the gruff voice. He finds two sets of eyes staring at him, and two bodies blocking his sight lines. He can't see where he is. Panic begins to rise in his throat, but he pushes it down.

_I am Carlton Lassiter, head detective of the SBPD. I do not panic,_ he thinks to himself. He only has to wait until the eyes move, and then he'll know what to do.

.-.-.-.

Shawn knew what the case was the minute he stepped into the police station. He took in Lassiter's empty desk as he was ushered quickly into the chief's office, where only Vick and Juliet awaited him. The minute he stepped inside, he threw himself against the door.

"Oh, oh no," he said, pushing his palm against his chest. "It's Lassy-face." Juliet nodded solemnly and handed him the case file. He flipped through it, instantly wishing he had never started working as a consultant for the police.

"Whatever you need," Chief Vick said, "is at your disposal. We need our detective back."

"I need to see his home," Shawn said, shutting the file and tucking it under his arm. He patted the folder. "And I need more time with this."

"Juliet, you and Shawn go to Lassiter's house. The forensics team is already there," Vick said. Through her business like exterior, Shawn noted the little clues that showed she was worried. He took all of those in as he turned to follow Juliet to her car.

As they walked past Lassiter's desk, still untouched by forensic scientists, Shawn memorized every detail of it. The line of pencils on the desk, the perfectly placed stack of files, the spotless desktop, and the drawer towards the bottom that was oddly ajar.

"I'll meet you out there," he told Juliet, she nodded and continued on her way. Shawn glanced around, ensuring that no one was watching, and peered into the drawer. It was empty. He shrugged, glanced around again, and hurried to join Juliet outside.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Here's chapter two. Enjoy. I shall post chapter three eventually.

**Disclaimer:** Not Mine.

**Chapter 2**

"_There is a great crowd coming one day into our lives if that be so."_

"Hey, lovie, you awake?" It's high voice. Carlton groans and opens his eyes, hoping that this movement will make the voice leave him alone. It doesn't. Instead, he can see the face that belonged to the voice. The face is thin, every aspect of it. The lips, the nose, the eyebrows. Even the hair looks thin from Carlton's vantage point. A hand reaches up from somewhere behind the face and pats Carlton's cheek, he instinctively pulls away and the face laughs.

"Carlton Lassiter, eh?" it says, its lips moving into seemingly exaggerated positions. "Well, I didn't for one moment believe Kasey could get you, but now-"

"Don't tell him my name, you dolt," gruff voice says. Thin face falls back, most likely from being pushed, and is replaced by a thicker face. The one that owns gruff voice. Another hand pats Carlton's cheek, this time he doesn't pull away. The hand feels like sandpaper, and he grits his teeth to keep from showing his disgust.

"Where am I?" he asks. Thick face, Kasey, makes a tutting noise and sits down on a chair in front of Carlton.

"We're the ones that ask the questions, mate," thin face pipes up while Kasey is still tutting. Kasey glances back at thin face and makes a shushing sound. Carlton smiles. He can outsmart these guys.

He tries to lift his hands, to get the jump on them, but finds that he is tied to a chair. _Okay,_ he thinks. _They're not _that_ dumb._

He can outsmart these guys, as soon as he unties himself.

.-.-.-.

What hit Shawn the hardest when he walked into Lassiter's house was how lonely it seemed. Everything was clean and the furniture looked practically untouched. The vastness of the building increased the sense loneliness Shawn felt when he reminded himself that only one man lived there.

The kitchen was crowded with forensics. They were taking samples of dirt from footprints that adorned the otherwise pearly white floor and testing doorknobs and countertops for fingerprints. Shawn avoided them, assuring Juliet that he didn't need to see the exact crime scene to get a psychic reading. Instead, he meandered slowly through the house, looking at the sad life of Carlton Lassiter.

The walls were sparsely decorated; about three framed pictures were all that hung in his stairwell. All of them, Shawn noted, were of Lassiter doing some heroic deed. Shawn reached the top of the stairs and stood in the hallway, staring at the closed door before him. He slipped on the gloves forensics had made him take and opened it carefully.

Lassiter's bedroom was just as empty as the rest of the house. A bed, a bedside table, a bureau, and a mirror were all that was in it. Shawn stared at the perfectly made bed, at the smudgeless mirror, and at the painfully white walls that enclosed it all.

"Shawn?" Juliet's voice interrupted his thoughts, and he was glad to have a reason to turn away from the room. She stood in the doorway, her face lined with deep concern.

"Have you found anything?" he asked. She shook her head.

"No prints," she said. "You?" He turned back to the bedroom as he spoke, and his eyes fell to the corner of the mirror. Tucked into the frame was a photograph. From where he was he couldn't make out any details, but he wasn't about to give away his secret to Juliet. He shook his head. He waited until he heard her footsteps descending the stairs before crossing the room to peer at the picture.

.-.-.-.

"Do you think you can get out of this?" Kasey asked, an aggravating smirk adorning his face.

"Not even Houdini could escape our precautions," thin face piped up. Carlton still didn't know the other man's name, but he figured that didn't matter too much. Kasey was obviously behind all of this, and thin face was going along for the ride.

"Will you shut up?" Kasey snapped, and thin face retreated to the other side of the room where Carlton could no longer see him. "Now, Detective Lassiter, do you know who I am?"

Carlton sized the man up, trying to decide what kind of answer he was looking for. He was at least semi-intelligent, Carlton surmised, seeing as he had managed to break into Carlton's house without alerting any of the neighbors; that meant Carlton couldn't get away with a smartass answer. He shook his head, and Kasey laughed.

"You see that, Caleb? Man doesn't even remember me," Kasey said. His voice was jovial, but there was something in his eyes that sent a chill through Carlton.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** I'm currently working on chapter four. I have to figure out how exactly I'm going to get where I have to go, but then it should be up.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Psych.

**Chapter 3**

"…_when the little picture of a happy father's face looks up in yours,…"_

It was the picture of Lassiter and Henry from their fishing trip. The only photograph in the house that had someone other than Lassiter in it and it had to be Shawn's dad. Shawn sighed as he plucked the picture from where it was tucked into the frame of the mirror. When he pulled it out, another piece of paper fluttered to the ground; Shawn sighed and bent to pick it up.

It was a newspaper clipping of Shawn from the first case he had worked with the police. Shawn stared down at the picture, because that was what it was, just a picture. None of the article or headline had been cut out. He flipped the gossamer paper over in his fingers and saw that Lassiter had written "Shawn" on the back.

Shawn sighed and slipped the pictures back into the mirror's frame, there was nothing useful there. He slowly made his way back downstairs, where the Forensics team was finishing up. He stood in the kitchen doorway and took in the scene, memorizing every detail at a glance. He followed the trails of dirt with his eyes, taking note of where they started, where they stopped, and where they began again, all the while hoping that some minute detail would jump out at him and he would solve the case in an instant.

None did.

.-.-.-.

The stars. Repeat offenders. People he checked up on to make sure they were obeying the law. That, Carlton had decided, must have had something to do with his predicament; he just, couldn't figure out which one of those names these people were or were associated with. He didn't have the list memorized, which was why it was written down in the first place, and since his black book was in his desk he couldn't go through name by name and figure out suspects. Of course, even if he'd had the book he wouldn't have been able to go through it since his hands were still tied.

"You thinkin' of escaping?" Caleb asked, making a failed attempt at looking menacing as he slapped a piece of pipe against his hand. "Well don't."

"Is that a threat?" Lassiter inquired, he knew he shouldn't have the minute he said it, as Caleb pushed his face into Carlton's and made a sad attempt at a snarl while wrapping his thin, slimy fingers around his throat.

"Don't mess with me," Caleb said, and he pushed away from Carlton. "I'll mess you up so bad you won't know which way is up."

"I'd count on it, too," Kasey's voice said from somewhere behind Carlton. "He's small, but I've seen him bite a man's hand clean off." Carlton sighed.

"Now, be a good little policeman and take a fucking nap," Caleb said. Carlton obligingly let his head fall to his chest as he tried to think of what he could do. He thought back to everything he had done the day they had taken him, but nothing stood out enough to assure him that Vick would be suspicious. His mind kept telling him he had one hope, just one.

"Spencer," he whispered as a short prayer.

.-.-.-.

"Gus! Get the door," Shawn called out as he pushed at the door to his office. His arms were laden with reports and maps that he had convinced Juliet he would need copies of in order to 'divine' his answer to the question of Lassiter's whereabouts. Gus pulled the door open and stepped back, raising his eyebrow at his friend's burden.

"What's goin' on, Shawn?" he asked.

"Lassy-face," Shawn said, pushing files off of Gus's desk, much to Gus's chagrin, and dumping his pile of papers on top of it instead.

"What about him?" Gus said as he gathered up his disrupted papers.

"He's missing," Shawn replied. "And it's our job to find him."

"Uh, don't you mean your job, Shawn? You are the 'psychic,'" Gus replied, emphasizing the word psychic with finger quotes. Shawn looked at Gus and sighed.

"Our job, Gus, because you're my partner," he said. Gus shrugged and proceeded to help Shawn organize the maps and reports now adorning his own desk. They went through pile after pile, looking for something out of the ordinary, or maybe too ordinary. They got through every single piece of information available to them with no coffee breaks, and at the end of it they had found nothing.

Shawn sighed and tossed the final folder onto his desk while Gus pushed aside his sad attempt to re-roll one of the maps. The both leaned back in their respective chairs, and Shawn ran a hand through his hair while Gus rubbed his eyes.

"That was unsuccessful," Gus said. Shawn sighed again and reached for the first report.

"We'll just have to keep looking," he declared. Gus groaned.

"Shawn, my eyes hurt," he complained. Shawn flipped carelessly through the folder he had picked up and then tossed it aside again.

"Yeah, mine, too," he said.

"I mean, what good are soil samples and all that if we don't know who wanted Lassiter out of the picture?" Gus ranted, Shawn perked up as his friend spoke.

"That's it!" Shawn exclaimed.

"That's what?" Gus asked, puzzlement lacing his voice.

"The little black book," Shawn said, standing up and grabbing the phone. "Lassy's little black book has the names and addresses of all the people he arrested!"

"Stars for repeat offenders!" Gus finished.

"Exactly," Shawn said, dialing Juliet's number.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Here it is, chapter 4. It took a rather unexpected turn... but I think I've got the next three chapters figured out well enough to get them up soon. Enjoy. Please review.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Psych. Quotes are from A Tale Of Two Cities

**Chapter 4**

"…_when you see your own bright beauty springing up anew at your feet…"_

"It was in his desk," Juliet said as she led Shawn through the building to Lassiter's desk. "One of the side drawers, I don't remember which." Shawn stopped next to the desk and closed his eyes. He placed his fingers on his temples and rubbed them slowly and methodically; when his eyes shot open Juliet leaned towards him with interest.

"It's empty," he said, lowering his hands.

"How could you know that?" Juliet asked. She moved around him and carefully opened each of the drawers in Lassiter's desk. They were all full of neatly piled papers except one, that one was completely empty. There was no sign of Lassiter's black book anywhere.

"It must be somewhere," Gus offered. "Maybe at his house?"

"Why didn't Shawn pick it up before?" Juliet asked. For the first time her voice betrayed an element of disbelief in Shawn's ability.

"The, uh, the spirits weren't looking for it before," Shawn said. "Let's go back, see if they can find it.

"All right," Juliet conceded with a small sigh.

.-.-.-.

They looked everywhere. In the Kitchen, the living room, the dining room, the basement, the closets, the bedroom, and even in the bathroom; but they didn't find anything. After all of their searching, they stood forlornly in the front hallway. None of them wanted to leave and give up, but they knew that if they stayed it would simply be a waste of time.

Juliet gazed at the wide expanse of the rooms in her sightline and tried to imagine how Lassiter could stand living there all alone. Gus surveyed the hallway and wondered why he let Shawn talk him into another wild goose chase. And all the while Shawn stood racking his brain, trying to decide where he would put that little black book if he were Carlton Lassiter.

"His car!" Shawn exclaimed, not bothering to go through his normal show of having a psychic vision. "Get his keys, in case the glove compartment's locked." Shawn yanked the door open and rushed outside, Gus and Juliet on his heels. He quickly pulled the car door open and dove inside, and he tugged at the Glove box. It was locked. He held out his hand and Juliet placed the set of keys she had borrowed from evidence into his hand.

"Shawn, how can you be so sure?" Gus asked, looking nervously down the street and hoping that Lassiter didn't have nosy neighbors.

"I had a vision," Shawn said, sliding out of the car and brandishing the black book under Gus's nose. Juliet reached for it, but Shawn pulled it back. "I need this to, uh, get a proper vision."

"All right!" Juliet said as Gus rolled his eyes. Juliet left them to return to the station and inform Chief Vick of Shawn's discovery and assure her that he was bringing it in.

"We do not have time for your stupid psychic crap, Shawn," Gus said as they climbed into his car. Shawn sighed and started flipping through the book.

"Don't you get it, Gus? If I don't have the little black book, then I can't find Lassy-face."

"And what makes you think the police wouldn't be able to find him if they had the little black book?"

"They would," Shawn said, rolling down his window and letting the breeze blow through his hair. "It would just take them a little longer."

.-.-.-.

Carlton blinked his eyes open and found his vision obscured by what he thought was sweat. He tried to shake the drops from his eyelids and a few fell down onto his pants and his shirt. Bright red drops against the light blue of his suite shirt. He stopped shaking his head as the pain caught up with the blood, a pulsating pressure in his temple accompanied by the sticky, half dried blood caking his hair and skin.

"He's up!" he heard Caleb call, and both men appeared before him.

"They'll never find you, lovie, you best give up hope," Kasey sneered. Carlton did his best to look tough, a difficult thing to do with his head bashed in and his hands tied behind his back.

"Did you need to hit me?" he asked, trying to sound menacing instead of whiney. Kasey laughed.

"You make a lot of noise when you're sleepin'," Caleb said.

"Somethin' about Shawn Spencer?" Kasey added, and Carlton swore that his heart stopped beating. Apparently Carlton's nervousness showed, because Caleb and Kasey both started to laugh. Carlton let his eyes slip closed and his head fall to his chest, guilt rose up in his stomach as the thought of what they would do to Shawn if they ever found out more than just his name.

"He's that psychic, ain't he?" Caleb queried. "The one who works with the police." Kasey let out a slow, cold laugh and Carlton felt the guilt rise even higher.

"We can't have a psychic mussin' up the works, can we, Cal?" Kasey asked. Nothing else was said, but Carlton knew that Caleb had left. Carlton opened his eyes and gazed down at his pants, it was better than the images of Shawn being hurt because of him. He felt tears dripping from his eyes and he did nothing to stop them.

.-.-.-.

"Anything?" Gus asked, tossing a ball against the wall and catching it. He repeated this exercise and ignored Shawn's glare of frustration at the noise.

"Well, there're about twenty people who live in the area that has the kind of soil we found in Lassy-face's house," Shawn replied. "Lucky for us, five are back in prison."

"Only five? Shawn, that gives us fifteen people to check," Gus said. "There're only two of us!"

"Au contraire monsieur," Shawn said, shaking his finger at Gus. "There's me, you, dad, Juliet, and anyone else the police will provide."

"Your father?" Gus queried incredulously. "You honestly think your dad's going to help us with this?"

"Only one way to find out," Shawn said, standing up and grabbing Gus's keys before quickly heading out the door. Gus groaned, but he stood and went to follow Shawn. Just as he reached the door, however, he found it blocked by a tall, skinny man with a rather ugly face.

"Hello Mr. Spencer," the man said before he proceeded to punch Gus in the side of the head. The room went black as Gus felt his head collide with the floor.

Outside, Shawn gave Gus five minutes before he drove off without him, heading towards his father's house. He hoped that Henry Spencer would put aside his lessons and his disappointment long enough to help find a cop.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** I don't really like how short this chapter is, but I'm pretty sure that chapters six and seven will make up for it. Anyway, enjoy, please review.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Psych.

**Chapter 5**

"…_think now and then that there is a man who would give his life, to keep a life you love beside you!"_

"You're an idiot, do you know that?" Carlton heard Kasey say, and he blinked his eyes open to find himself face to face with a very frightened looking Burton Guster.

"You don't have to insult me!" Caleb responded as Carlton tried to get Gus's wandering attention. "I did what you told me to!"

"No, you didn't," Kasey responded, and Carlton heard paper crinkling. "Shawn Spencer is a white guy, Cal; does that guy look white to you?" Finally, Gus's eyes fell on Carlton, who did his best to look calm and confident.

"No," Caleb conceded quietly and Carlton heard the rustle of paper.

"Don't you ever read a newspaper?" Kasey asked.

"No," Caleb replied. "I'm afraid I'll see myself on of the pages."

"Well," Kasey growled, "now the chances of that have gone up, Cal, 'cause you just made it a hell of a lot more important for Mr. Psychic to look for us." Carlton had lost Gus's attention a few minutes ago, but now the other man's eyes returned to Carlton's face. Carlton quickly mouthed the words 'the book' as slowly as he could. He couldn't be sure if Gus understood, but the short nod he received from Gus gave him the hope he needed that Spencer would be able to find them.

.-.-.-.

"C'mon dad, open the door," Shawn muttered to himself as he pounded on his father's door. Finally, it swung open and Shawn's fist came dangerously close to hitting his father. Henry raised an eyebrow and quickly stepped out of his son's reach.

"What do you want, Shawn?" he asked, his annoyance brightening his voice.

"Lassiter is missing," Shawn said, pushing his way into the house. "And you are going to help me find him."

"How am I going to do that?" Henry asked, shutting the door and heading to the kitchen where Shawn had already spread out maps and lab reports on the table. "Shawn-"

"No, dad, no tests; no telling me that it's my case and I have to deal with it," Shawn said, looking his father in the eye. "We're talking about a cop, one of our own, help me find him." Henry studied his son's face, surprised by the earnestness in his eyes, and sighed.

"All right, what are we doing?" he asked, stepping up to the table.

"We're comparing soil to locations," Shawn said, "and comparing locations to the addresses in Lassy's little black book."

"That's going to take awhile, Shawn," Henry said, Shawn shot him a glare.

"So what?" he asked. "As long as we find Lassy."

.-.-.-.

Carlton listened carefully to the voices as they receded, leaving him and Gus alone. He sighed and let his eyes fall closed for a minute before turning his gaze on Gus. The other man looked frightened and Carlton could see the shake in his body as his eyes met Carlton's.

"They're gone," Carlton whispered, Gus only nodded. "Where's Shawn?" he queried, not noticing the use of Spencer's first name. Gus raised an eyebrow, but said nothing about it as he cleared his throat to respond.

"With Henry," he said, "trying to find you." Silence fell for awhile and Carlton watched Gus closely, taking in the rise and fall of the other man's chest as he breathed and the bob of his Adams-apple when he swallowed. Carlton opened his mouth to break the silence, searching for words of encouragement, but was interrupted by a door slamming open.

"All right! Which one of you goes first?" Caleb's voice reached them before he did. He placed a hand on each man's shoulder and looked between them. "How about Lassiter?" he suggested to himself, and he reached behind him for his trusty pipe, a maniacal grin on his face.

"No," a small voice interrupted him mid swing and he lowered his weapon and two sets of eyes turned to Gus. "No."

.-.-.-.

"We've been at this for hours, Shawn; don't you think we should take a break?" Henry asked, getting up from the table. Shawn didn't respond, instead he jumped up, pointing at a page in Lassiter's book that he was studying. Henry sighed and moved behind his son, peering over his shoulder at the address Shawn had gotten so excited about.

"I found him," Shawn said. He looked up at his father and Henry was shocked to see tears in the young man's eyes. "I found him, dad." Henry nodded. He wrapped his arm around his son's shoulders and flipped open his phone to call the chief.

"Good job, Shawn," Henry whispered as he listened to the phone ring.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** All right, there's one more chapter after this one. Please enjoy, and don't forget to review.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Psych.

**Chapter 6 **

_"It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done;…" _

Chief Vick took over the scene pretty quickly. After Henry called her, they all met at the road where the target house was. Vick was barking orders to each of her teams, stressing how important it was to look before they shot.

"Now, remember, the main goal here is to get Detective Lassiter out of there, arresting his captors is secondary," Vick said, "but only barely secondary. You have a chance to get the bastards, you get them."

Shawn had drifted away from the crowd to try and call Gus, but the other man's phone just kept going to voicemail. Shawn sighed and returned to listening to Vick's instructions.

.-.-.-.

Carlton stared ahead of him, not blinking and, he was sure, not breathing. He tried to force his eyelids down, tried to make his head tilt to look away, but his body refused to listen to his mind. He could only stare at Gus's limp body slumped in the chair he was tied to.

"Yer turn, lovie," Caleb said, but Carlton could barely hear him, he was too busy staring at Gus's chest and praying that the other man was breathing. The pipe collided with his head and his vision faded, but it returned in a moment and he was back to staring, this time through tear fogged eyes.

Again and again the pipe hit his body, and he fought the pain as hard as he could. All he let himself think of was Gus and making sure that the young man was all right. But still, the pain got a hold of him and his head fell to his chest and all thoughts were gone. Soon, his posture matched Gus's, and no one was left to pray if they were breathing.

.-.-.-.

"What the hell is that?" Kasey growled when Caleb returned from using Carlton and Gus for batting practice.

"What?" Caleb asked, tossing the pipe noisily aside. Kasey glared at him and held a finger to his lips. A faint jingle rose up in the room.

"Get their cell phones," Kasey said, Caleb obliged. Kasey grabbed the one that was wringing and flipped open. "Hello?" he asked, making his voice higher and exaggerating his accent.

"Where's Gus?" the voice on the other end asked, and Kasey suppressed a laugh as he responded.

"Dead," he said, and hung up. He threw the phone down and ground his heel into it, his face breaking into a wide grin.

"But I didn't kill anyone," Caleb protested, Kasey's grin disappeared and he grabbed Caleb by the collar and slammed him against the wall.

"Shut. Up." Kasey growled, Caleb only nodded.

.-.-.-.

Shawn stared at his phone for a minute after the other man, who was most definitely not Gus, had hung up before rushing over to the crowd of police. He struggled to get through the mass to the chief, but found himself pushed further out of the circle. Finally, he gave up the fight and sent himself flailing into the nearest officer. That got their attention.

"Spencer, what is it?" Vick asked, pushing towards him.

"It's… they've got Gus," Shawn said, straightening up. Vick raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure?" she asked. Shawn quickly slipped his hands, one still holding his cell phone, into his pockets and nodded solemnly.

"The spirits don't lie," he said, and for the first time he hated himself for what he had become. In the back of his mind he could hear a small voice asking why he hadn't become a police officer in the first place.

At least then he wouldn't have to sit on the outside while the real cops barged in on the criminals.

And barge in they did.

Caleb had been sitting down to a nice feast of cheerios and Kasey had been checking the news when the door of the house broke down and a rather large group of armed cops surrounded them. Caleb grabbed for his pipe, but his hand was barely around it when a shot rang out and he fell to the ground clutching his shoulder in pain.

Kasey was slightly more successful, he got his arm around a cop's throat and a gun to his head before a well aimed shot found his exposed foot. As the cop he'd held captive turned, though, Kasey lifted his gun to his own head and pulled the trigger.

When Shawn was allowed in, they were still trying to get Caleb to tell them where Lassiter was. Shawn ignored the interrogation and surveyed the room they had entered. It was the Kitchen, and it was almost completely spotless. The only sign of any sort of comings and goings was a small trail of brown drops that he could barely see against the linoleum leading to a door at the far end of the room. Shawn glanced at the crowd of cops, but shook his head and followed the trail on his own.

He opened the door and found a set of steps leading down. He again glanced behind him, and again proceeded alone, descending the steps slowly. He was ready to run at the slightest sound. The first body that came into view was Gus's, and he paused long enough to shout up the stairs that he had found them before rushing to his friend's side.

Gus looked up at him, blood trailing down in his eyes, and then looked over Shawn's shoulder. Shawn glanced behind him and found his eyes catching those of Carlton Lassiter. He glanced back at Gus who gave him a small nod and then turned and moved to Carlton's side.

Neither of them said anything and Shawn didn't do anything, they just waited and watched as the Paramedics and Policemen moved around. And as they loaded Carlton into the Ambulance, Shawn climbed in next to him.

"What about Gus?" Carlton whispered as the drugs the paramedics had given him began to lull him to sleep.

"My dad's with him," Shawn replied, and he slipped his hand into Carlton's and held it tightly for the entire ride.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Here it is, the final chapter. It's more of an epilogue... but, hey. Enjoy, review, etc...

**Disclaimer:** I don't own.

**A Far Better Thing**

**Chapter 7**

"… _it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known."_

The minute Carlton woke up he tried to push himself out of bed. He was met, however, by a stern faced Shawn who seemed ready to shove him back in the bed if he didn't lie down.

"The doctor says you need rest," Shawn said as Carlton eased himself down onto his pillows.

"And I should believe him because…?" Carlton asked. Shawn shrugged.

"He's the boss," he stated. Carlton raised an eyebrow.

"Since when did you listen to the boss?" he queried.

"Since when didn't you?" Shawn countered.

"Touché," Carlton said with a small chuckle. Shawn gave a sharp nod and started to fidget. Carlton sighed. "Sit down?" Shawn nodded again and plopped himself down on the edge of Carlton's bed. Carlton raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"You know," Shawn said, "I was scared."

"You? Scared? Why?" Carlton queried.

"I didn't think I'd be able to find you," Shawn said quietly, laying a head on Carlton's shoulder. Carlton could think of nothing to say for a moment as his mind processed the other man's gesture, but eventually he managed to lift an arm to pat Shawn on the back in hopes that the head would move.

It didn't.

"I thought you were a psychic," Carlton said softly. This got Shawn to sit up and Carlton held in a sigh of relief.

"Yeah, well, I told you that so you wouldn't arrest me," he said. Carlton nodded.

"I thought so," he said. They sat in silence for awhile and Shawn once again began to fiddle, until Carlton's curiosity got the better of him. "How did you solve all those crimes, then?"

"My father was a cop who wanted me to be a cop," was all Shawn would say. "Look, you should rest."

"You'll be here when I wake up?" Carlton asked. Shawn grinned.

"Better," he said, swinging his feet up on the bed. "I'll be here while you sleep." He laid his head on Carlton's shoulder again and Carlton, after a moment's hesitation, wrapped his arm around Shawn's waist and closed his eyes, letting a small smile creep onto his face.


End file.
